


Well, That Was Unexpected

by sbdrag



Series: Of Magisters and Elves [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, I DIDN'T PLAN SHALE SHE JUST SHOWED UP, Inquisitor Adaar - Freeform, M/M, Post-Inquistion, Spoilers are Likely, story on two fronts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with Varric asking Dorian if he can join him going back to Tevinter. It probably saves Dorian's life, when they run into Fenris on the way. With Cole tagging along, it certainly makes things entertaining.</p><p>On the Skyhold front, Iron Bull realizes that with Dorian gone, the Inquisitor has lost her confidante. Knowing that this is an important thing for a leader to have (hell, he still wondered how he'd managed to find Krem), he decides to set about finding her a new one. Naturally, it doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So, Sparkler, are you really going back to Tevinter?”

Dorian looked up, over his cards. It wasn’t the whole group playing Wicked Grace, like it had been last time. Just him, Varric, Bull, Krem, and Inquisitor Adaar. The Altus looked at her, and she shrugged. So, then, she hadn’t told Varric. Then again, the dwarf was good at finding out things people didn’t want him to know.

“It’s true,” he said, drawing another card. “Why, did you want to join me? Thinking of a new serial in the heart of the Imperium?”

“That would be a good title,” Varric said, grinning. “‘In the Heart of the Imperium’. Sounds too much like a romance for me, but I might be able to get away with it.”

“So you do want to go to Tevinter?” Herah asked, drawing a card herself. Dorian smiled. That was something he liked about the Inquisitor, she was always direct. Varric shrugged.

“Why not? It’s not like the Imperium doesn’t already deal with dwarves,” he said. He drew, and shrugged again. But Varric liked using fake tells, so there was no reading his hand. “Kal Sharok dwarves, mind you, but dwarves all the same.”

“So you’d like to accompany me? Varric, I’m flattered,” Dorian said, putting on his most lascivious grin. Bull rolled his eyes next to him, but didn’t comment. Varric just laughed.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Sparkler,” he said. “You're not my type.”

“So why do you want to go to the Imperium?” Krem asked, drawing. He smiled. Krem, on the other hand, was too straightforward. One always knew what kind of hand he had.

“Let’s just say I… need a change of scenery,” Varric said, brow furrowing as he drew again. Adaar shot him a look that was all guilt and sympathy, and that was all Dorain needed to know. _Hawke._

“Well, you’re welcome to come along,” the Altus said, drawing the Angel of Death and flipping it onto the table. “It would be good to have a friendly face.”

Dorian laid down his three of Serpents, while Krem had a three of Song. Varric grinned as he put down a four of Daggers, and the others groaned.

“And the man who just took your money?” Varric joked, taking his winnings. Krem stood with a mournful sigh, stretching.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Dorian replied, waving as the Charger said his goodbyes to the table, muttering about getting another drink.

“I think I’m out, too,” Bull said, rising slowly. He eyed Dorian, like he was thinking about saying something, but didn’t. Dorian let him go, collecting the cards. Adaar looked between the two of them, but didn’t ask. At least, not in front of Varric, he suspected. She was kind that way.

“When do you plan on leaving, then?” Varric asked. “If it’s soon, I’m sorry to say I only thought about joining you recently.”

“How much time to do you need?” Dorian asked. In truth, he’d meant to have left already. But he was dragging his feet, and a look from Adaar suggested she knew it. Not that she was complaining. He was, after all, as much her best friend as she was his.

“Give me a week, at least,” Varric said, standing.

“A week it is, then,” Dorian said. He’d been packed for the past month, but had kept finding reasons to stay. Now, he would have to leave.

“See you around, Sparkler, Boss,” the dwarf said, nodding as he left. That left just him and Herah.

“So,” the Inquisitor started. She was terrible at being subtle.

“I know you’re dying to ask, my dear, so do get on with it,” the Altus said, with a much put upon sigh. Herah knew he didn’t mean any of it, but he still felt a twinge of guilt for his tendency to snap. The Inquisitor gave him a slightly arched eyebrow.

“You and Bull?” she asked. Dorian sighed again, taking a long drink. The swill they served here truly was terrible.

“Didn’t work out,” he said, a little out of breath. He was surprised it had gone on as long as it had. Well, no, he wasn’t, actually. He liked how Bull was domineering and brash and open, and… surprisingly sweet, when they were alone. He always knew that Bull wasn’t ashamed of their relationship. In fact, Bull was only too ready to let someone, anyone know they were in a relationship. No, Bull wasn’t the problem. Dorian was. He felt like he always was.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Herah asked, moving to a closer chair. Dorian looked around. Iron Bull was hanging around the bar, giving them privacy that sitting in his normal space would ignore. Dorian chuckled.

“No, but I suspect I should,” he said. He took a deep breath, then met the Inquisitor’s eyes. “I’m just… I’m not ready for the kind of thing Bull expects. In Tevinter there aren’t… relationships, amongst men. Sex, yes, but not… more. And I can’t… _fasta vass_ , I don’t think Bull even knows what he wants, and I can’t… I can’t do that. I especially can’t do that with Bull being… well, Bull.”

Herah smiled sadly at that. She put a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. He knew about her unrequited feelings for the Commander. She would understand this, he thought, if anyone would. Sometimes, the way Bull was, the way he talked about their relationship, made Dorian feel… used, somehow. He knew it wasn’t what Bull meant, but it still wasn’t what he wanted. At least, not anymore. There was a time it wouldn’t have bothered him.

“Bull can be kind of an ass,” the Inquisitor said, which made Dorian laugh. Of all things, he wasn’t sure he’d been expecting that. “You’ll find someone, Dorian. Who could resist your charming wit?”

“I think you mean charm and wit, my dear,” Dorian replied, resting his arms on the table. Everything was starting to droop down. “People seldom find my wit charming, or my charm witty.”

“Well, they’re the wrong kind of people, then,” the Inquisitor said, standing. “Come on, let me help you to your room.”

Dorian let her pull him to his feet, and leaned into her side as she helped him out of the tavern. He wasn’t as drunk as he could be, but it was… nice, having a friend. Having a person willing to look out for him. Who wanted to, even. And that was another reason he’d broken it off with Bull, he reflected. The Inquisitor looked at him the same way she looked at her advisors, the same way she’d looked at the Champion of Kirkwall, the same way she looked at the others. She respected him. And that was certainly something he hadn’t been expecting.

And her respect made him want to be someone worthy of it.

“Sorry to make you look after me,” Dorian said. Herah laughed.

“I could pick you up one handed,” she said. “It’s not even an inconvenience.”

Dorian smiled. The Inquisitor always seemed to know what to say, even when she wasn’t thinking about it. Which, he had come to realize, was more often than he realized. He was so accustomed to the games of nobility that he sometimes forgot she had started as a mercenary, a soldier. She didn’t have politics bred into her very bones, not the way some of the others here did. Her honesty was always refreshing, and he was glad of it now.

“I’ll try to look out for Varric, in Tevinter,” he said. And he would. He knew, although he and the dwarf weren’t close, that he and the Inquisitor were friends. Despite the hard decisions she’d had to make.

“I’m glad,” Herah said, which actually caught Dorian by surprise. They paused, in the courtyard. The Inquisitor looked up, at the main building of Skyhold, and Dorian followed her gaze. “Normally, I’d say Varric was good at getting himself in and out of his own trouble, but… after everything that’s happened…”

 _Hawke._ The word hung on the air between them. Dorian didn’t need to hear it to know what she’d meant. He’d been there. He’d heard the way Varric’s voice had broken. If it still haunted him, he could only imagine how it taunted his friend.

“I’m glad he won’t be alone,” Herah said at last, continuing on.

“And I’m sure there will be plenty to occupy his time,” Dorian said. “Given I intend to stir up trouble.”

“And here I thought trouble was implied, with you,” the Inquisitor joked. Dorian laughed.

“I suppose you have a point, at that,” he said. They had reached his room at last, and Herah released him to let him fumble with the lock alone. When he had it open, he turned to look at her again. “I will miss you, you know.”

“It won’t be the same around here, without you,” Herah said, with her half smile. “You’ll write, won’t you?”

“I’m offended that you even have to ask,” Dorian replied, sniffing imperiously. Herah laughed, shaking her head. “But yes, if you must know, I do plan to write, and often. I may even write to Bull, if the mood hits.”

“I think you should,” the Inquisitor said. Dorian blinked. He was amazed, sometimes, that she could still baffle him. “I think you two would make better friends than lovers.”

“... well, then, perhaps I really will write to Bull,” Dorian said wryly, arching a brow. “Your advice has yet to fail me, my friend.”

“I’m told I give good advice,” Herah replied, still smiling. “I might even try to convince Bull of the same thing. Have to be a little more subtle with him, though.”

“Yes, he isn’t much for advice, is he?” Dorian asked, frowning slightly. He hadn’t really meant to write to Bull, but he found it hard not to do the things Herah asked. And that was the key, wasn’t it? She asked, but she still respected his decision, even if it wasn’t the way she wanted it to go. Hoped. Hoped it would go. Venhedis, the woman never seemed to put herself first in anything. He supposed it what made everyone so willing to follow her. Or at least a part of it.

“Bull likes orders, but this isn’t something I can order him to do,” Herah said in agreement. Then she sighed, waving as she turned. “Good night, Dorian. Sleep well.”

“Good night,” Dorian replied, closing his door. He fumbled with his clothing, then finally decided it was a loss and sprawled across the bed.

Herah Adaar knew Varric would still be up. She knew because she had as much trouble sleeping as he did. It had been easier when they were still fighting; she would be too exhausted not to sleep, then. But the day to day activities of running Skyhold simply didn’t wear her out the same way, and she often tossed and turned into the night, thoughts buzzing.

“Hey,” Varric greeted, pouring over some ledger or manuscript as she approached. Sometimes Herah would just come and sit, not saying anything. Varric seemed to understand, and never pressed. Though, sometimes, he did ask if she would get food. Or drinks. He’d jokingly said that, for some reason, the staff liked her better. As if it were a mystery.

“Do you have a minute?” the Inquisitor asked. Varric looked up again, and noted what he liked called Herah’s ‘serious face’. He set aside the ledger with an easy smile. Sometimes, that face meant actual trouble; usually, it meant she wanted to talk about something personal. It amazed him how that usually seemed to concern her more, sometimes. But it was something Hawke had done, too. And he felt a pang at the thought.

“Sure, Boss,” he said. “What’s the matter? Your coin purse still too heavy?”

“I don’t think Cullen or Josephine would approve of me losing anymore coin tonight,” Herah said, bemused. Ah, something personal, then. He couldn’t make her smile at something really serious.

“Unless Ruffles were the one taking that coin, you mean,” Varric said. Herah chuckled, and Varric offered her a plate of cookies he had on hand. She accepted one dubiously.

“Thank you,” she said, examining the treat. They had been a gift sent by Isabela, but they were too sweet for his taste, really. “I wanted to talk to you about Dorian.”

“Are you worried I’ll corrupt him?” Varric asked, making Herah laugh as she finally ate the cookie. “Don’t worry, Bianca will be there to chaperone. I promise I won’t do anything untoward.”

“If I was worried about that, I would be having that conversation with Dorian,” she said. She gestured at the plate, and Varric slid it closer as acknowledgement. At least someone liked them.

“You don’t think I could tempt Sparkler? Boss, I’m hurt,” he said. Herah shook her head, having another cookie.

“It’s more a matter of would than could, with you,” she said.

“A fair point,” Varric conceded. “So, then, if not Dorian’s virtue, what are you here about?”

“I’m worried about him,” she said, smile softening. “He and Bull… well, I can’t say I was always comfortable with their relationship, the way it was, but it wasn’t my place to say. And they did seem… happy, you know?”

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” Varric said. That brought Hawke to mind, again, and her relationship with Anders. He’d never really understood it, and he’d talked to Hawke about his misgivings. But in the end they’d stayed together, and she had seemed happy, so he couldn’t exactly blame her.

“I think the hardest part is that Bull meant well, he just… went about it the wrong way,” Herah said, sighing. Varric picked at a loose thread on his coat. He wasn’t usually Herah’s confidante, but he knew Dorian was, and this wasn’t something she could talk about with him. Varric had picked up on the Tevinter’s disapproval of Bull’s openness with their relationship, but hadn’t known either of them well enough to make it his business. But, if he was going to be spending more time with Dorian…

“What do you mean?” Varric asked. Herah sighed, absently taking another cookie. Huh, he’d have to tell the Rivaini to send more. Maybe introduce herself when she did.

“It’s just… Dorian’s had a… rough past,” she said. Varric nodded. He liked that the Inquisitor respected people’s privacy the way she did, even when she seemed to so badly need to talk to someone. It was hard, he reflected, to be at the top. “And the way Bull was in their relationship… I think they must have talked about it, or he guessed.”

“So you think the way he was acting was for Dorian’s sake?” Varric asked. Maybe he would write that romance after all. Herah gave him a look that suggested she knew what he was thinking. Or maybe not, because it was a disapproving look. But she needed to talk, and he was willing to listen.

“I do,” she said. She huffed, taking another cookie. “I think he was just... too Bull about it.”

“They don’t call them Bull’s Chargers for nothing,” Varric agreed. “You can have the cookies; a friend sent them, but they’re not really to my taste.”

“Really? They’re delicious,” Herah said, actually pulling the plate into her lap. It made Varric smile. Now there was something Hawke wouldn’t have done, even if he’d offered. The Inquisitor was polite, but not too polite.

“I’ll let her know you approve,” Varric said. “She’d get a kick out of it.”

“I’m going to talk to Bull, too,” she said, which was, of course, only natural. She wouldn’t put one friend over the other, not like that. “But I’ll have more time with him. But Dorian’s leaving in a week. He’ll write, but…”

“Yeah, I get your meaning,” Varric said. “Don’t worry, Boss, I’ll look after Sparkler.”

“Thanks, Varric,” Herah said, standing as she patted his shoulder. She examined the cookie plate, then the table. Then she shrugged, waving over her shoulder as she carried the plate away. Varric snorted and shook his head. One of the most respected and feared figures in Thedas, and she was carrying away a cookie plate. Now that he was writing.

Herah found Bull still at the tavern, as she suspected he would be. He was in his usual spot, and didn’t look surprised to see her, She sat next to him, offering one of the cookies, which he refused.

“Here to lecture me, boss?” Bull asked. He was drinking something the Inquisitor could smell from where she was. She shook her head.

“I don’t lecture,” she said, then thought better of it. “Do I?”

“Not really,” Bull admitted. “But you didn’t seem entirely pleased with what you heard from Dorian.”

“I wasn’t entire pleased with what I heard from Dorian before you broke up,” Herah said. “But you’re both adults, and it was your decisions to make.”

“And I fucked up,” Bull replied. Herah sighed, offering a cookie again. This time, Bull accepted. He tried it, then made a face. “Too sweet.”

“Varric has a friend who sent them,” the Inquisitor said. “Said they weren’t his thing.”

“I can see why,” Bull said. Then he sighed. “So, if you aren’t here to lecture me, why are you here?”

“I know you meant well,” Herah said. “I’ve known you long enough to know you aren’t cruel to people, just because you can be. You stepped over a line, but it was Dorian’s place to tell you that, not mine.”

“You called me an ass,” Bull said, frowning.

“I said you can be an ass, which you can,” Herah replied. Bull sighed, but couldn’t disagree. “Usually when you’re trying to hide how much you care about someone. Krem knows that, that’s why you get away with it with the Chargers. Dorian didn’t.”

“Are you saying I should try again?” Bull asked. Herah chewed thoughtfully, most of the cookies gone already, before answering.

“I think you should try being friends, first,” she said. “You two skipped that step, somewhere in the middle, and I think that may have been the problem.”

“Not much time left for that, boss,” Bull drawled, a slight tinge of bitterness on the edges.

“Maybe not,” Herah said. “I told Dorian I thought he should write to you, and I think you should reply, if he does. As a friend.”

“I kind of doubt he’s actually going to write me, boss,” Bull said. He stared ahead, but his gaze was somewhere else. “I did make an ass of myself, didn’t I?”

“If you have to ask…” Herah said, which made Bull sigh again. He met her eyes.

“I’m not making any promises,” he said.

“This isn’t an order,” Herah said. “You don’t have to.”

“That’s what I like about you, boss,” Bull said, lips twitching into a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s still weird as shit, but I like that you don’t make those kinds of orders.”

“We’re friends, Bull,” Herah said, staring mournfully at the empty plate. When had she eaten them all, anyways? “I just want you to be happy. You and Dorian. It just might not be together.”

“Thanks for the talk, boss,” Bull said, as Herah rose. The Inquisitor smiled.

“Thanks for listening,” she said, and headed out of the tavern. Bull shook his head, watching her leave. She hadn’t been what he was expecting, when he’d sent Krem to contact the Inquisition. Hell, she hadn’t even been the Inquisitor then. But it couldn’t have been anyone else, not the way things were. They’d needed hope, and if he could think of anyone that could inspire that, it was her.

If she had ever shown an interest, Bull would have been very quick to return it. But she never had. She was good at hiding it, but he was pretty sure most of the inner circle knew she had eyes for Commander Cullen. How anyone could turn down the Inquisitor was beyond him, but it wasn’t like this was a logical thing.

And then the hand scratching at his stubble paused as he considered something. Dorian was the Inquisitor’s closest friend. And he was leaving for Tevinter in a week. Bull was sure, from some of the conversations they’d had, that Dorian was Adaar’s confidante. Which meant that she wouldn’t have anyone to confide in, once he’d left. Sure, there were letters, but everyone knew Red read those.

Bull sighed and drank some more. Whenever he doubted his decision to become Tal-Vashoth, he would just look at the Chargers to remember why he did it. Or Herah. Because without her, he wasn’t sure if he would have saved them. But sometimes, he missed the easy way of living under the Qun.

Like when he realized he was going to try and find his boss a new confidante, and probably make an ass of himself in the process. Again.


	2. Chapter 2

A week went by quickly, or so it seemed. Cole was still adjusting to people being able to see him, or rather remember seeing him, and it had cause an incident that had demanded the Inquisitor’s direct intervention. Mainly because Cassandra had already left to become the next Divine, and Cullen had yet to master a glare of such intensity. He was getting better, though.

So it was with some surprise that when the Inquisitor approached the two men, it was with Cole in tow. The young man looked somewhat miserable, and kept looking at Adaar with pleading eyes. She was resolutely ignoring him, which meant she didn’t like whatever decision she’d made any more than he did. Dorian finished packing away some supplies into the saddlebags of his dracolisk - bless the Vashoth’s heart for getting him one after mentioning the one he missed in Tevinter - and turned to greet her.

“Is something amiss?” he asked, though he felt he already knew the answer to that. Adaar offered him a half smile, and he feared his suspicions had been confirmed.

“Would you mind taking Cole with you?” she asked. “If you can’t, I understand, but I’m afraid that, now that most of the fighting’s over, he tends to… get underfoot.”

“There’s an understatement,” Varric said, with an amused raise of his brow. His mount had been a joke to begin with, a giant horned nug they’d found while battling the Avvar, but the thing had grown on the dwarf. Or perhaps it was the other way around. In either case, the dwarf and nug were fast partners now. Even if Varric did look slightly ridiculous on top of it.

“Am I being punished?” Cole asked mournfully. “I can stop, if it means I get to stay.”

“No, you can’t,” Adaar said, but it was a soft and affectionate tone. Dorian imagined that if the Inquisitor had children, it would be the same tone she’d use with them. She crouched down, to be eye level with the boy. “You can’t stop, and I wouldn’t want you to. And you’re not being punished. You like Varric, don’t you?”

“Come on, kid,” Varric said. “It’ll be an adventure.”

“If I’m not being punished,” Cole said. “Then why are you sending me away?”

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” Adaar said, and Dorian was actually taken aback. She didn’t want him hurt, so she was sending him to the Imperium with a pariah? “There are a lot of people here who don’t understand you, and it makes them angry.”

“Like the templars,” Cole replied. Adaar sighed softly.

“Yes, like the templars,” she said. And Dorian realized that was the heart of the matter. After defeating Corypheus, Skyhold had seen an influx of templars. Many wished to make amends for the things they had done, while others simply saw no where else to go. It caused a great deal of friction with the mages, and many former templars were still unlearning old habits. Cole and his origins… yes, the Altus could see why the Inquisitor would want the boy away from Skyhold, at least for a time.

“Well, I’ll certainly welcome the company,” Dorian said cheerfully, to put the Inquisitor at ease. She smiled at him, while Varric gave him a disbelieving look. Cole just tilted his head at him, and he felt more than saw the boy’s eyes on him. “I’ll have few enough friendly faces to return to as it is, might as well take a few more with me.”

“... I’ll go,” Cole said quietly, still looking at Dorian. The Altus forced himself to ignore the way the young man was looking at him. He hoped he was wrong, but he somehow knew this change of heart probably had more to do with Cole ‘wanting to help’. He didn’t relish the thought.

“Good,” Adaar said, standing. She gave Dorian an appraising look, trying to make sure he was really ok with this. He gave her his most winning smile, patting Cole on the back lightly.

“Don’t worry, my dear Inquisitor, he will be in the finest hands in Thedas,” he said, winking at her. She rolled her eyes, but smiled. Cole was still watching him, curiously, and Dorian hated to admit that it unnerved him. Varric appeared at Cole’s other side, and led him away with a light touch at his wrist.

“Come on, kid, let’s get you a mount,” he said. He frowned at the dracolisk and nug. “Preferably one that won’t draw any more attention.”

“Ask Dennet,” Adaar said. “Tell him I sent you.”

Varric waved over his shoulder, chatting with Cole as they walked away. The Inquisitor turned back to Dorian, crossing her arms.

“Sorry to dump Cole on you like this,” she said. “If I thought it were a good idea, I’d rather he stay here, but…”

“I understand,” Dorian said, holding up his hands. “Besides, what I said was true enough. I am a pariah who went off and joined the Inquisition, after all.”

“And we’re lucky that you did,” Adaar said, with feeling. Dorian swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat, eyes prickling. No, he was not going to cry. Especially not out here, at the gates to Skyhold, where anyone might see him. It was undignified.

“I will miss you, my friend,” he said instead, voice coming out more raw than he had intended. And then he made a noise of surprise as Adaar pulled him into a fierce hug. She actually grabbed him around his middle, pulling him off his feet in the process.

“Take care of yourself, Dorian,” she said. The words broke his startled inaction, and he tentatively hugged her back. Then she set him down, and took a step back. She nodded. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

“I hope I have the opportunity to return,” he said, surprising himself. He looked up at the main building of the fortress. When they had first arrived, everything had been falling apart. It had been cold and bleak, and he found it and the rest of Ferelden dull and distasteful. Now, though… he felt like he was leaving home again, going into a mysterious, savage land. At least this time it was a land he knew.

“Inquisitor.”

They turned to see Commander Cullen, attempting to hide his uncertainty behind his authoritative facade. If Dorian didn’t know the man better, he would have probably believed it. But he didn’t now, because Cullen had tells. A softness about the eyes, shifting his weight slowly from foot to foot, keeping the papers in his hands in front of him… it was no wonder he’d lost so spectacularly at Wicked Grace.

“Just a moment,” Adaar said, giving Dorian an apologetic smiled. He waved it off.

“Duty calls,” he said. She nodded, walking over to the Commander to discuss whatever pressing matter it was today. As they were talking, Varric and Cole returned, the boy sitting uneasily on the back of a cream colored mare with a white mane. She was a large horse, clearly Fereldan stock. Too thick for the grace Orlesians desired, bred for power over speed.

“Her name is Faith,” the boy said as they got close. “I don’t know why. It seems an odd thing to name a horse.”

“Then rename her,” Varric suggested, getting on his own mount. “She’s yours now, after all.”

“No,” Cole said, stroking her mane. “She likes the name Faith.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. What did a name matter to a horse, anyways? He’d yet to name his own mount, not seeing the point in such a thing. Mounts often died, after all, and there was no reason to become too attached to one. Even Varric called his giant nug Truffles, but that was because Varric gave everyone nicknames. And his mount had an affinity for mushrooms.

Adaar excused herself from the Commander, who gave a small bow as he left. He paused to look at the trio that was leaving, and caught Dorian’s eye. Cullen nodded, in farewell. Dorian returned the gesture, a little surprised. The man was a former templar, and Dorian still found it odd that they had formed an odd sort of friendship over chess. That, and what he had learned of him talking to Adaar, had made him respect the Commander. He wondered if the feeling went both ways.

“Farewell, and safe travels to all of you,” Adaar said, bringing back his focus. He smiled, bowing in his saddle.

“Thank you,” he said, simply. He felt if he said too much, it would just lead to another outburst of emotion. He looked up. “Stay safe.”

“Don’t do anything too interesting, Boss,” Varric said. “I can’t write about it if I’m not there for it.”

“I’ll try,” Adaar said, laughing. She clasped each of them on the shoulder, and paused when she reached Cole.

“You can always write, you know,” she told him. He looked up at her, surprised. She smiled. “I’d love to hear from you. It’ll be lonely around here without you three.”

“And quieter,” Blackwall, he had kept the name as a title, apparently, said as he walked up. He nodded to the three of them, standing next to the Inquisitor.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Adaar said, laughing. Blackwall scowled, then relented with a wary smile. He’d taken to shaving, with his secret out, and it made him look years younger. It was still odd, for everyone as far as Dorian could tell.

“What? You were gonna shuffle off without a proper goodbye?” Sera said. The elf practically ran into the Inquisitor, who steadied her when her stop almost caused her to fall over. Dorian blinked.

“Buttercup, I didn’t know you cared!” Varric said, mock touched as he laid a hand over his heart. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Not you, you cheating git,” she said. Which was a bit of a hypocrisy, considering this was Sera, but they all knew she was really only talking about archery. Then she turned to look at Dorian, then Cole. “Mages and spirits still give me the shivers, yeah? But you’ve both saved my ass enough times for it to count for something. Even if you do act like a rich tit, Dorian.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” the mage said, arching a brow. He had an easier time understanding the elf now than when they first met, but she was still mostly indecipherable.

“Leaving before breaking your fast? Dorian, how unlike you, my dear,” Vivienne said, smiling coolly as she approached. The Altus smiled back, hiding his surprise that she, too, had come to see them off.

“Do forgive me. If I had known so many people would be marking my departure, I would have chosen a more reasonable hour for it,” he said. Vivienne nodded her head knowingly, examining the others that had arrived. Blackwall pointed avoided her gaze, and Sera simply pretended she wasn’t there. Adaar had an amused smile on her face, watching Dorian for a reaction to this turn of events. She knew he had only expected her to see him and Varric off, but it seemed she was not so surprised that other had joined them.

“Oh, good, I made it in time,” Josephine said, sliding into the space at the Inquisitor’s side. She smiled at them, for once without her clipboard. “I had hoped to wish you all well before you left.”

“Beautiful women coming to see me off?” Varric said, with a grin. “Ruffles, I’m flattered, but I’m afraid you’re making Bianca jealous.”

“How could I?” the advisor returned. “I know I could never compete with her for your affection, Varric.”

“I don’t know, Josephine,” Leliana said, appearing at the Inquisitor’s other side. “I think you may have a chance. Perhaps we could work together.”

“Two beautiful women ganging up on me?” Varric laughed. “Now that’s just cruel.”

“Only if you refuse,” Leliana pointed out, making the dwarf laugh again.

“I don’t understand why you do,” Iron Bull said, Krem next to him as they strolled up. “It’s not like the crossbow is going to get you off.”

“Maybe it can,” Varric said drily. “You’d never know.”

Bull squinted at Bianca suspiciously, and Krem cautiously approached Dorian.

“I know we don’t really know each other, but if you’ll already be in Tevinter…” the man started. He seemed uneasy, then sighed and held out a letter. “My father, he had to sell himself into slavery. I don’t know if my mother knows anything, or if she’d tell me if she did, but I’d appreciate if you could get this to her.”

“Certainly,” Dorian said, accepting the letter with a nod. Krem nodded back smartly, ever the soldier, and stepped back with a slight smile. Dorian knew that look, and resolved to look into the matter personally. He was only just repairing his relationship with his father; if he could help someone who still had theirs, he would. It was with surprise that Dorian noted that the Commander had rejoined them while he was speaking to his fellow Tevinter citizen.

The Altus tucked away Krem’s letter, hands starting to shake. He glanced around; the whole ‘Inner Circle’, minus those who had already left Skyhold. They weren’t really his friends, he knew that, and so did they. But even so…

“Well, I suppose we should be off,” he said, and had to clear his throat. It felt dry, and the smile Adaar gave him was knowing.

“Maker’s blessings upon you,” Leliana said, a few of the others repeating the words. Dorian nodded, not quite sure what else he was supposed to say, if anything. He looked around at everyone, Bull last. The Tal-Vashoth nodded to him, slowly. Dorian returned the gesture. Then, steeling himself with a breath, he forced himself to turn and start his mount down the mountain.

The others called out good byes that Varric returned, and Sera yelled out something especially obscene that made the dwarf laugh. Dorian fought to control his emotions. It had been difficult saying goodbye to just the Inquisitor, and he had expected her. The others he didn’t know what to say, what to do with their well wishing.

“Getting emotional, Sparkler?” Varric asked. Dorian sneaked a glance at him. The dwarf was riding off to his right and slightly behind him. The Altus put on his best smile.

“Me? Emotional? Over a bunch of people I barely know?” he asked, with a laugh that sounded fake even to him. Varric gave him a look, then shrugged.

“Whatever you say,” he said, in a way that said he very much knew Dorian was full of shit. The Altus knew it, too. He would have to work on that before they reached the Imperium. There, showing such emotion would have much worse consequences. “So, where exactly in the Imperium do you intend to go?”

“Qarinus first,” Dorian said, turning back in his saddle. “My family’s estate is there, and my father asked me to visit my mother before moving on to Minrathous.”

“Oh, good, I’ve been to Qarinus before,” Varric said. “Though, that time, I went by boat.”

“What, pray tell, were you doing in Qarinus?” Dorian asked. Cole was silent, which, compared to the things he usually said, Dorian found to be a blessing. Varric chuckled.

“A bit of this and that,” he said. “Certain interested parties would rather I kept the business to myself, however.”

“And so they brought along a storyteller?” Dorian asked, chuckling. Varric shrugged.

“Don’t think he knew I was,” he said. “My books aren’t as big in Ferelden as they are in the Marches. Or Orlais.”

“I hate to tell you, but they aren’t particularly popular in the Imperium, either,” Dorian said. “I only knew of them because Mae delighted in regaling me with them. Probably because she knows I find them rather droll. No offense.”

“That’s because Mae likes my romances, bless her heart,” Varric said. “Though I think she takes them at their comedic value.”

“You know Mae?” Dorian asked in surprise. “As in Maevaris Tilani, the Magister?”

Varric grinned, looking rather pleased with himself.

“She’s my cousin,” he said. “Through marriage.”

“Of course,” Dorian said, sighing and rolling his eyes with a wry smile. “How could I forget? The scandal of an Altus marrying a dwarf, even a well connected and respected dwarf… she had everyone buzzing for _weeks_.”

“And I’m sure she loved every minute of it,” Varric said, chuckling. Dorian nodded.

“Of course she did,” he said. “If we hadn’t known each other since our days in the Circle, I would have thought she’d done it only for the sake of stirring up gossip. Many of our peers certainly did.”

“As if she needs to try,” Varric said. Dorian could agree with that sentiment wholeheartedly. In his years in the Imperium, he had only known one other Altus able to inspire so much gossip without trying. However, where Mae was a force of nature, Eppie was just an _experience_. Vaguely, he wondered what had become of the girl. Last he knew, she was still traipsing about Thedas, going after ancient ruins or what have you.

“What was your cousin’s name? I’m afraid I never had a chance to meet the man; I was busy with my studies by then,” Dorian asked. His studies with Alexius. It still hurt, to think of the man. Or rather, who the Magister had been, before. He was glad Adaar had spared him, but it was still broken. It had been painful, trying to visit him. Especially after Felix passed. After that… well, Dorian could have mistaken him for a Tranquil, after that. Eventually, it had caused him to stop visiting the man.

“Thorold,” Varric replied, bringing the Altus back from his thoughts. He was watching the mage carefully. He’d told Adaar he’d look after him, but it still begged the question of how to get to know him. It was a long road back to Tevinter, he was sure there would be plenty of chances, but he still wasn’t sure how to go about it. Common ground was a good place to start, he decided. And there was always something to say about Mae. “I’m guessing you missed the wedding dress, then?”

“I heard, but I wasn’t quite sure I _believed_ ,” Dorian said. He seemed keenly interested. “Did she really find a way to have a train made of fire?”

“Of course,” Varric said. “Nearly singed a few guests, too. I thought the skirt was more impressive.”

“Oh?” Dorian asked.

“It looked like it was made of flowers,” Varric said. “But, as soon as they kissed? Doves.”

“Doves?” Dorian asked, looking scandalized himself. But in a good way. Varric nodded.

“She had another skirt on underneath, of course,” he said. “Though it was by far more… revealing.”

“I am sorry to have missed _that_ ,” Dorian said, with a chuckle. “It is so very Mae.”

Cole looked at the scenery. He didn’t know what Dorian and Varric were talking about, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Fire? Doves? It didn’t make sense. Varric was trying to get to know Dorian, because the Inquisitor wanted him to. She thought Dorian needed help. Cole had to agree.

There was so much hurt in the mage. Cole hadn’t been around Dorian often enough to really sort it out, and he felt badly about that. The Inquisitor had hurts, too, but she wasn’t all tangled up inside like Dorian was. And she knew it, or at least she guessed at it. Cole had sensed that. She hadn’t sent him with the mage because of it, though. But she always told Cole that she liked the way he helped, liked that he made people smile and feel better. Even though she’d told him to stop killing, she still understood why he had. She always said he just needed to learn better ways of helping. Rhys had thought that way, too.

Cole looked at Dorian. It was still strange, that people remembered him. He’d never really known how to help Dorian. All the little things he could do, like putting honey in Leliana’s wine, he couldn’t do for the mage. Skyhold just didn’t keep anything Tevinter around. Well, until the Inquisitor had brought in the decorations for the great hall. That had caused a stir. She had told Cullen and the others that she wanted it to be known that the Inquisition was a place for _everyone_ , even ‘Vints. Cole knew that that was part of the reason, and the other part was that she just liked the dragons. But he didn’t tell anyone that.

Dorian had walked in the day the pillars and rugs were settled and dropped what he’d been working on in surprise. Cole had been watching people from the balcony above, and the surge of emotion had caught his attention. The mage had looked around, and it had given him a sort of aching feeling. At first, he’d been happy to see them. But then it turned sad. Longing. He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t. And then he’d thought about home, and thinking about home had hurt. Cole didn’t understand. Why had Dorian wanted to return to a place that made him hurt?

Varric had seen the mage’s surprise, and had quipped about how well it went with the curtains. Dorian had felt confusion at that, and then sudden light heartedness. The curtains were Qunari curtains, and the decor had then amused Dorian. And so Cole had forgotten about the hurt, with so many others hurting.

But he remembered now, and thought about that time as he watched Dorian and Varric talking. The mage had that ache again; wanting to go home, happy to be going home, but… not. He felt like he was leaving home, and Cole, again, didn’t understand. How could he be going home and leaving home? Dorian baffled him. And under all that, there were other hurts. Greater hurts.

Cole wanted to help, but he made Dorian uneasy. And the Inquisitor had told him that was because Dorian didn’t like people knowing he was hurting. Which Cole didn’t understand, either, since no one could help you if you didn’t tell them. But he would wait. He learned that people liked it better when no one else was there to hear him talk about their hurt. The Inquisitor said it was because most people just wanted to forget, and people that knew reminded them. That Cole could understand.

He wondered if Dorian wanted to forget. But if he did, why was he going back? It certainly seemed odd. So Cole asked.

“Why are you going back?”

Dorian and Varric paused their conversation. They had been exchanging stories about the infamous Maevaris Tilani, and had almost forgotten Cole behind them. Dorian turned to look back at the boy.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He could feel it, the way Cole seemed to see through him. No, more accurately, _in_ him. The young man tilted his head.

“Why are you going back?” he asked again. “Thinking about it hurts, and leaving hurts, so why are you going back?”

Varric sighed, softly, mentally preparing himself for whatever was about to happen. Cole still had a lot to learn about tact, especially now that he was more human. Dorian seemed to consider the question for a long time, the former joviality draining out of him.

“I have to,” he said, looking forward determinedly. Cole frowned.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I want to make things better,” Dorian said, his candor surprising Varric. “I have to make them better. To make them right.”

“Like setting a bone,” Cole said, nodding in understanding. Dorian smiled coldly.

“I’d say that was a rather apt way of putting it,” he said. “There are a lot of things wrong with my homeland. And there are a lot of people I will miss in Skyhold. But I love Tevinter. It’s my home. And I won’t see fools run it into the ground with foolish notions of grandeur.”

“Buckling under the weight of the past, trying for a better future,” Cole said, as if reciting something. “But every inch gained makes more hands appear, grabbing, dragging back into the dark, like chains. Every step a battle, every corner a chance to turn back and stop trying. To let the tide roll over and pull you along.”

Dorian looked back, staring. Varric looked at the Altus, then Cole, then back, waiting. The dwarf suspected they both knew the boy was talking about Dorian, not Tevinter, but if the mage wanted to play pretend, he could do that.

“She makes impossible things seem possible. But she’s not coming,” Cole said. He looked up, meeting Dorian’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.”

“... it’s alright,” Dorian said at least, albeit softly. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if trying to smile. He didn’t manage it. “If I can’t face myself, exactly how am I supposed to face the entire Magisterium?”

“That’s the spirit, Sparkler,” Varric said. “Besides, it won’t be the whole Magisterium. You’ll still have Mae on your side.”

Dorian chuckled at that, though he did seem to have sombered. He turned to face forward in his saddle.

“Let us hope she’d not the only one,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull goes to work trying to find Herah a new confidante.

“You look a little lost, Commander.”

 

Cullen looked up in surprise to find the Iron Bull walking up to him. He’d been wandering the battlements, checking in with his soldiers and watching the courtyard below. Normally, this would be the time he’d be meeting Dorian for a game of chess. He hadn’t thought about the fact that the Atlus's departure would mean an end to the games. Truth be told, they had been a welcome diversion at first, and then a good time spent with a man he’d come to consider a friend. Without that time, the Commander did feel a little lost.

 

“Is it that obvious?” Cullen asked. He hoped it wasn’t. It wouldn’t do for his men to see this as some kind of weakness. Bull chuckled.

 

“Only if someone knows this is usually when you’d be beating Dorian at chess,” he said.

 

“Mother Giselle must be happy at least,” Cullen said. “No more Tevinter mages in the garden, influencing good ex-templars. Even if she never did quite forgive the Inquisitor for passing up the opportunity to create a Chantry garden.”

 

“Would have kind of undermined our stance as not being part of the Chantry,” Bull said. “Especially considering how often she shot down being the Herald of Andraste.”

 

“Does she believe in any gods, do you think?” Cullen asked. He didn’t know Bull well, truth be told, but felt a sort of kinship that comes with being a soldier. Given the Chargers weren’t actually under his authority, it also helped that there was no risk of fraternization or favoritism. Real or imagined.

 

“I don’t think that’s the word you’re looking for,” Bull said after some consideration, leaning against the side of the battlement. “We’ve seen that Mythal exists, or at least existed. But knowing hasn’t made me convert to the elven pantheon.”

 

“I see your point,” Cullen said. “Was there something you needed?”

 

“Not really, just figured I’d stop to chat,” Bull said. He stood, and started to walk away, but paused. “You know, I think I saw the Inquisitor in the garden earlier. Maybe if she’s still there, she’d fancy a game.”

 

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

 

Bull nodded, and continued on his way. Cullen watched after him a few minutes in confusion, then shrugged. He supposed there was no harm in going to the garden. After all, even if the Inquisitor wasn’t there, someone else could could possibly be available to play.

  


Herah Adaar wasn’t sure why she had come to the garden. Actually, that was a lie. Orlesians were why she had come to the garden. Orlesians that were not only after Cullen’s hand, but were now after her hand as well. Funny, how positions of power made people overlook things. Like the fact that she was taller than all of the men who had inquired after her eligibility. And, at least according to Josie, her manners were still rather boorish. Such as ducking out of the main hall to hide in the garden, rather than stay to talk to Orlesian noblemen.

 

“Waiting for someone?”

 

“Cullen,” Herah said, smiling in greeting as he approached. “No, more like… hiding.”

 

“Orlesians?”

 

“Orlesians.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Cullen said, sitting across from her. He waved at the chess set before them. “Care for a game?”

 

“Are you hoping for a rematch, Commander?” Herah asked, sitting up and grinning. Cullen smiled in return.

 

“Well, it couldn’t hurt, could it?”

 

“Only if I win again.”

 

“Well, according to Dorian, someone needs to keep me humble.”

 

“Funny, he told me the same thing.”

 

Cullen laughed, and finished setting up the pieces. He’d left the first move to the Inquisitor, and she took it without hesitation.

 

“So, why are you hiding from the Orlesians?”

 

“The same reason you’ve been avoiding them.”

 

“You’re joking.”

 

“If only,” Herah said, frowning with comical exaggeration. “Apparently even being a Qunari can’t save the leader of the Inquisition from marriage proposals.”

 

“And I imagine Josephine is as unsympathetic to your plight as she was to mine.”

 

“It’s only a few, your worship,” Herah said, putting a hand to her chest while attempting to imitate Josie’s accent, “Imagine how many we’d have if you had worn a dress instead of a uniform.”

 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen said, laughing.

 

The Inquisitor smiled. “Dorian does a much better impression than I do.”

 

“I imagine he does. I’ve heard his Vivienne impression.”

 

“Did he ever do his Blackwall impression for you?”

 

“What? No!”

 

“Hm, a shame. It was highly entertaining.”

 

“... it is a little... do you miss him?”

 

“Of course. He’s a good friend. Don’t you?”

 

“I do. You’re right; he is a good friend. I just…”

 

“Wasn’t expecting it?”

 

“Exactly,” Cullen said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

Herah smiled back, “Well, maybe we can have a game or two more often.”

 

“I… I’d like that, actually. It’s a good way to pass the time.”

 

“And hide from Orlesians.”

 

“There’s hardly a bad way to hide from Orlesians.”

 

“Dragon hunting.”

 

“I’m… not sure which I would prefer, actually. Exploring the Deep Roads?”

 

“At least I get to hit the darkspawn. Requisitions in the Fallow Mire.”

 

“Mm, a close call. But the undead don’t have wandering hands.”

 

Herah laughed, “Could you imagine if they did though?”

 

“I’d rather not.”

 

“Rather not what?”

 

The pair looked up from their game as Leliana approached.

 

“Imagine undead with wandering hands,” Herah said, eyes twinkling.

 

Leliana laughed, “And what brought that up?”

 

“Determining bad ways of hiding from Orlesians,” Cullen replied. “Check. No Offense.”

 

“None taken. I have heard of both your... troubles with Orlesians. Which is also why I’m here.”

 

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like this?” Herah asked, frowning. She moved herself out of check, but sacrificed her knight to do it.

 

“You need to get fitted for a dress, Inquisitor.”

 

“For the love of… why?”

 

Cullen chuckled, putting Herah in check once again.

 

“Well, after all our help at Halamshiral, and stopping Corypheus, Empress Celene has graciously accepted an invitation to visit Skyhold. And, while she is here, King Alistair has also accepted an invitation to visit. Specifically, to attend a ball.”

 

“We’re having a ball? Here?” Herah asked. “The hall isn’t all that big, is it?”

 

“No, but the courtyard is.”

 

“Check and mate, Inquisitor.”

 

“On both sides, it seems…” Herah said, and sighed. She stood, shoulders slumping as she turned to Leliana. “Well, let’s get this over with. Any other dignitaries coming I should be aware of?”

 

“Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven, a few Antivan princes and princesses, as well as Nevarran nobility,” Leliana said. “I am sure Josie will be happy to read you the guest list later.”

 

“I can’t wait. Good day, Commander.”

 

“Good day, Inquisitor.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

 

“The Iron Bull,” Vivienne said, smiling. “To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear?”

 

“Oh, nothing much. Just figured you’d be with Red and Josephine.”

 

“Why ever would you think that?

 

“Well, with Skyhold preparing for a ball hosting the Empress of Orlais and the King of Fereldan…”

 

“I was well aware of the ball, my dear. Josephine has come to me for advice on the matter.”

 

“I thought so. But I’m surprised you aren’t helping with the Inquisitor’s dress.”

 

“Her what?”

 

“Yeah, Red and Josephine apparently thought it would be a good idea. Figured it was something they would have consulted you on.”

 

“Yes, I would have thought so as well. Where did you say this was taking place?”

 

“I didn’t, but I saw the seamstress heading to the Inquisitor’s quarters.”

 

“I see. Thank you, my dear.”

 

Bull nodded, and continued across the landing and into the library. Madame de Fer wasn’t sure what the mercenary intended there, or why he had stopped to tell her about the fitting she was missing. She did know, however, that it was a calculated move. It would easy to dismiss Bull as a simple brute, if one forgot he had been Ben Hassrath. It wasn’t the kind of thing someone as schooled in the game as Vivienne was like to forget.

 

No matter the reason, the mage was slightly miffed that she hadn’t been called upon to advise in the matter of the Inquisitor’s dress. She hadn’t even been aware the Inquisitor would be wearing a dress, a fact which rankled, considering she’d been forced to wear that horrid uniform to the ball at Halashiral. She’d borne it all with grace, of course, but that hadn’t made the situation any better.

 

Saving the page in the book she’d been reading, Vivienne set it on a side table and rose. Well, if they weren’t going to come to her, she would just have to go to them.

  


Herah Adaar was swiftly deciding that dresses were, more than ever, not for her.

 

The tailor they’d brought in for her uniform had been bad enough, but the seamstress was worse. At least the tailor hadn’t been asking about ruffles and necklines, would she prefer silk or velvet,  what kind of neckline would she prefer, pleated skirt or straight…

 

“What jewelry will your worship be wearing?” the seamstress asked, marking more measurements down on her clipboard.

 

“Jewelry?” Herah asked. Her head was spinning from all the options, and she kept looking at the fabric samples piled on her bed.

 

“Gold, perhaps?” Leliana supplied, a finger to her chin.

 

“Gold would be quite stunning, I think,” Josephine agreed. “But silver or navarite might work as well. Or, or dawnstone.”

 

“Mm, I still believe gold might make a better statement. But the purple of navarite… it may compliment her complexion best. What do you think, your worship?”

 

“Uh…” Herah replied intelligently.

 

“Oh, what about obsidian?”

 

“Black? If we’re going with black, onyx is a much better choice.”

 

“What? No, obsidian is the superior material for jewelry.”

 

“Don’t be silly, my dears.”

 

The Inquisitors and her advisors turned as one as Madame de Fer topped the stairs. She took in the scene at a glance, and smiled at Herah. The Inquisitor tried to return the expression, but it was weak at best.

 

“What Lady Adaar needs are pearls.”

 

“Pearls! Oh, yes, how lovely!” Leliana said.

 

Vivienne nodded, and walked over to the samples on the bed. She picked out the fabrics she approved of, setting them aside.

 

“A high neck, without sleeves to mask the breadth of her shoulders. Pearl buttons down the bodice, with an embroidered waist. Dragons, perhaps. A line of pearls at the waist, and pleated skirts in velvet. Make the pleats themselves match the pearls for a little color. The dress should be in a dark color; you were on the right track with the purple, my dears, so we should go with that. With her arms exposed we’ll need gloves, trimmed with fennec fur. It’s too cold in Fereldan for silks and lace, and, no offense, my dear, but you’d just ruin them traipsing about somewhere.”

 

“None taken,” Herah said with relief. At least now they would stop asking her to make a decision.

 

“And if we trim the gloves in fur, we should trim the collar and hem to match. A pearl hairnet should add to the effect without being overbearing, and perhaps earrings. Are your ears pierced, my dear?”

 

“Er… no, they aren’t.”

 

“Then we shall rectify that. As for shoes…”

 

“Boots, I think,” Leliana said. “Trimmed to match the dress, with pearl buttons up the sides.”

 

“Yes, those would do quite nicely. I would suggest a hell, however…”

 

“Lady Adaar will tower over our guests already, it makes little difference whether or not we add an inch or two,” Josephine said.

 

Vivienne nodded, “Very true. Heels it is.”

 

“I’ve never worn heels before…”

 

“A small heel, then.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Sera, you got a minute?”

 

“Depends, whatcha need?”

 

“Well, it’s not so much me as Adaar.”

 

“What? Somethin’ going on with her Inquisitorialness?”

 

“I just think she might need a little break.”

 

“A break from what? She burying her nose in paperwork again?”

 

“No, but she is preparing for a ball. And getting fitted for a dress.”

 

Sera snorted, jumping up from her couch where she’d been lounging. “Herah? In a dress? You’re joking, aren’t you?”

 

“Nope. Red and Josephine started it, but I saw Vivienne heading that way afterwards.”

 

“I can’t even picture it. Herah, in a dress,” the elf said, and collapsed into giggles.

 

Bull rolled his eye. He didn’t think it was that particularly funny, and with those three on the case, the Inquisitor was unlikely to end up in anything unflattering.

 

“Can’t you just see her? Trying to run around and swing a sword with her skirts flying in her face? She’d probably trip over them, too. Could you see miss priss’s face?”

 

Bull couldn’t help it, he laughed. While he could respect Adaar as a warrior, and knew that she was a force to be reckoned with in combat, when it came to grace and poise she was decidedly less deadly. She’d barely learned to dance in time for the ball at Halamshiral, and Josephine had still been a nervous wreck the entire time. Imagine the advisor’s face if the Inquisitor tripped over her skirts and fell…

 

“Yeah, let’s try to avoid that situation.”

 

“But you’re right, I can’t imagine Herah being thrilled to be stuffed in a dress and act like a lady. So I’ll go and rescue her for some fun, yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

 

“Psh, that’s no fun!” Sera said, sticking her tongue out at him.

 

Bull shook his head, and waved over his shoulder as he left her be. When he got to the bottom of the stairs in the tavern, Krem was waiting for him.

 

The man crossed his arms and tilted his head. “What are you up to, Chief?”

 

“Don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You talked Josephine into the idea of the Inquisitor in a dress. Then you got the Commander to go play chess, and after that you went and got Madame de Fer involved. Now you’re getting Sera to go play pranks. You’re up to something, Chief.”

 

“I’ll tell you later,” Bull said, wondering if he’d regret asking Sera to intervene as he eyed her leaving with her bow.

 

Krem nodded, and stepped aside. “I’ll hold you too it. Let me know if you need any help.”

 

“I might have to take you up on that…”

 

Bull cringed at the sound of buzzing, and shook his head. Whatever Sera was planning, he decided he didn’t want to know. He shook his head, then patted Krem on the shoulder as he left the tavern. After Sera’s particular brand of fun, a little quiet time talking with Blackwall might be in order.

 

Krem watched Bull leave with a thoughtful look. After a few minutes, he shrugged and went to order more ale.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a minute, hasn't it? Sorry about that, but as I plan to have characters from "To be a Magister" appear in this fic, I'm trying to finish that first so I don't end up contradicting myself later. But I haven\t forgotten about this fic!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters today! whoo!

Dorian was not a fan of boats in particular. When he’d left Tevinter, it had been entirely by land. But even he had to admit it would take less time to cross the Waking Sea by boat and take the Imperial Highway to his homeland than to circle around Orlais. That Varric also had a friend with a boat willing to ferry them to Kirkwall for free only made it that much more sensible.

 

And so the altus found himself in Amaranthine, a few scant weeks after his departure from Skyhold, awaiting the boat of Varric’s friend.

 

He found the place rather dull, if he was being honest. You couldn’t seem to go anywhere without some reminder of the Hero of Fereldan; apparently she had personally saved the city during her time as Commander of the Grey. While that was fine and all, he didn’t really see the point behind so many statues of an elf holding a sword as big as she was. He doubted the woman would have even been able to lift such a weapon, but figured the exaggeration was the typical grandiose hero worship such personnages were ascribed.

 

With a sigh, Dorian rose from bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He wandered over to the small water basin and washed his face before beginning his primping. He carried a small mirror around with him, but his routine had become so second nature that he hardly needed it. He styled his hair and moustache, then cleaned the wax from his hands before getting dressed. The he went to the desk in the room and began writing his letters.

 

_Dearest Herah,_

_The road has been, as always, long and rather dull. Admittedly, dull is better than fighting lyrium crazed templars and Venatori agents. Or great bears. Honestly, sometimes it felt like the entire forest was out to get us. Our dwarven friend appears quite enamored with the sound of his own voice. He’s done nothing but regale me with tales of Hawke’s companions. He says very little of the woman himself, though I gather you understand as well as I why that is. Though, from all he’s told me so far, I shan’t like to meet Fenris. I don’t imagine telling him I was a part of the Inquisition would sweeten a no doubt already sour disposition towards me, given your own feelings about the mages and all you’ve done on their behalf._

_I’m feeling well, since you’re no doubt concerned for me. And who wouldn’t be concerned, if their best friend was the most handsome man in all of Thedas? It must be terribly dull without my perfect visage to gaze upon. Though I suppose you could always look at the Commander. He was a close second, after all._

_Amaranthine is common, but if you ever wondered what the Hero of Fereldan looked like from every possible angle, I highly recommend you visit. Did you know she was an elf? I hadn’t any idea. Then again, perhaps the news didn’t quite make it to Tevinter. Not many of my countrymen would be fond of hearing that an elf had defeated one of the purported Old Gods and lived to tell the tale._

_It seems a man named Howe took over as Commander of the Grey after the Hero’s disappearance. When he heard Inquisition agents were in the city, he sent a runner to speak with us. I’ve no idea what it’s about, but we’re meeting with him today. Perhaps he wishes to pledge his support? It seems unlikely, but you were ever the optimist, and I am afraid I’ve picked up your bad habits._

_I’ve heard rumors that the Kind of Fereldan is attending a ball at Skyhold. If they’re true, I’m certainly upset that I missed that event. I’ve heard the Calanhad line is quite a sight to behold. I’d also like to see if anyone could truly out-Fereldan our dear Commander, but I suppose some things are better left to the imagination. And long winded, very descriptive letters._

_Speaking of long winded, I suppose I may like the sight of my own writing as much as Varric enjoys the sound of his voice. Though, admittedly, my hands are quite gorgeous, and watching me right is a study in elegance. Unlike your own unimaginative hand. No offense, but you write much like any soldier. You should add a little flair, as befits your station. At least take it into consideration._

_Your Friend,_

_Dorian_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nathaniel Howe did not, as it turned out, want to pledge his support to the Inquisition.

 

He did, however, want to introduce a golem who wished to go to Tevinter.

 

“She came looking for Mahariel a few weeks ago,” the Commander explained. They were just outside of the city proper, as it seemed unlikely the golem would fit in most houses.

 

“Does it always speak as if the people it’s talking about aren’t in the room?”

 

Howe sighed. Loudly.

 

“In any case, the- Mahariel had already left by then. When we heard that some members of the Inquisition were in the city-”

 

“I learned that one of them is a magister from Tevinter.”

 

“Altus,” Dorian said with a sigh.

 

“Does it matter? I’m sure it squishes just the same.”

 

“... I’m sorry, squishes?”

 

“Yes. All you little flesh beings are so squishy. It’s very inconvenient.”

 

“It’s inconvenient that we squish?” Varric asked, grinning wryly. “Well, that’s a new one for me. Sparkler?”

 

“I must agree that I have never had anyone complain about my… squishiness, before.”

 

“I don’t care about its squishiness. I was once a flesh creature, too. A dwarf. I am trying to return to such a state. Being small and squishy will be inconvenient for me.”

 

“Whoa, wait, hold up,” Varric said, squinting up at the golem. “You’re saying you’re a dwarf?”

 

“Did it not hear me? Perhaps it should get its ears checked.”

 

“What does this have to do with going to Tevinter?” Dorian asked.

 

The golem turned its odd, glowing eyes on him. “Because that’s what’s left. The mages here did not know how to fix me, and they say that Tevinter mages have much more knowledge of magic. I have my doubts, but I have very little else to do.”

 

“And so you’re asking to accompany us?”

 

“I suppose I could ask it. I had meant to go on my own, but this one,” and here the golem pointed at Howe, “Insists that such an idea is foolhardy. I disagree, but Lyna would not leave a complete fool in her place, so I will take its advice into consideration.”

 

“Not a complete fool. I suppose I’ve heard worse,” Nathaniel said with a sigh. He looked back to the group. “I know it’s a lot to ask, especially since we don’t know each other, but… Mahariel was a friend, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine. So I’d like to do what I can to look after Shale while the Com- Mahariel can’t.”

 

“Still getting used to your new title?” Varric asked.

 

“It’s been… interesting. To say the least. At least Mahariel already recruited all of us crazy people. Now I’m just left with the normal ones.”

 

“Sounds like someone else I know…”

 

“If you like, we could send someone to the Inquisition as an… advisor. I know you’ve had a lot of interaction with the Orlesian Grey Wardens; having an actual Grey Warden around could help.”

 

Dorian and Varric shared a look. Apparently, Nathaniel didn’t know about Blackwall, or knew more than they would have guessed. Varric shrugged, and Dorian sighed.

 

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt… and, as an altus, I’ll be able to introduce you to scholars… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…?”

 

“It may call me Shale, if it must.”

 

“Is that your name or-” Varric started.

 

“The beardless dwarf will not finish that sentence.”

 

“Or it will be squished?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The beardless dwarf understands.”

 

“Well, I suppose having a golem along will help if we run across any bandits on our way,” Dorian added.

 

“Yes. Or darkspawn. Or pigeons.”

 

“... right. Pigeons.”

 

“Thank you for doing this,” Howe said. “I can’t promise you won’t regret it, but I appreciate it.”

 

“Think nothing of it, dear man,” Dorian said, placing a hand on his chest and smiling. “The Inquisition is always willing to help the people of Thedas.”

 

“Sometimes all too willing…” Varric muttered.

 

Nathaniel smiled warmly. “Now that really reminds me of someone I know.”

 

“Yes, Lyna did have an annoying habit of helping people with the most insignificant matters. ‘I am a tree that lost my acorn, will you go fetch it from the fleshy man who stole it? I can’t find my stupid and very squishable brother who ran away, won’t you help me? I’m a smelly dwarf that makes jokes about the odors coming out of my body, won’t you let me follow you around everywhere?’”

 

“That last sentiment I share wholeheartedly,” Howe said, grimacing.

 

“Did you say she… looked for a tree’s acorn?” Dorian asked.

 

Shale groaned. “Yes. And it rhymed. Terribly annoying.”

 

“The Hero of Fereldan retrieved an acorn for a rhyming tree,” Varric said. It was clear to anyone that knew him that he was already thinking of writing a story.

 

“Is the beardless dwarf hard of hearing? Or just overly fond of stating the obvious?”

 

“He’s kind of like a parrot.”

 

A dark skinned woman seemed to appear out of nowhere, leaning on top of Varric like a piece of furniture.

 

“Writes all about his friends, too. Most his books are like that.”

 

“Nice to see you, too, Rivaini.” Varric seemed a little put out that the woman was leaning on him, but was grinning nonetheless.

 

“Of course it is. I’m giving you a free ride, out of the goodness of my heart!”

 

“And not because you think it’ll get you in better with the Merchant’s guild?”

 

“Varric you wound me! Although… if you could give me a good word…”

 

“I take it this is your ‘friend with a boat’?” Dorian drawled, looking around for Cole. The boy had quite taken to wandering the city, and Varric was usually with him when he did. Or until the boy managed to slip away.

 

“Boat!” the woman declared, standing straight and puffing out her chest. “Ha! A boat, he says. You’re lucky you’re pretty, or I’d take more offense to that.”

 

“I am rather pretty.”

 

“May I introduce Admiral Isabela?” Varric said with a grand sweeping gesture of his arm.

 

“Just Admiral’s fine,” Isabela said, smirking at Dorian.

 

Varric rolled his eyes. “Don’t pout, Sparkler, I’ll introduce you, too.”

 

“Perish the thought. My dear lady, I am Dorian Pavus, of Tevinter.”

 

“Oh dear. And you’re a mage, too, aren’t you?”

 

“Did the staff give it away? I find it tends to draw attention that way. Or am I simply too handsome for it to be natural? I assure you it is, but I can understand how you might think that way.”

 

“Well, we talk more about your staff later, if you like,” Isabela winked. “But right now, I think we should talk about the other passenger I have going to Tevinter.”

 

“Another… oh, Andrastes’s polished bronze tits. It’s Broody, isn’t it?”

 

“You guessed it.”

 

“Well, then, this should be quite the experience,” Dorian said. He turned to Shale. “Do you think if an angry, glowly elf tried to attack me you’d be able to stop him?”

 

“It is concerned? I suppose if it feels it needs protection from this else, I could try. It did agree to speak to the magisters on my behalf.”

 

“I did, though not necessarily the magisters. Not that they won’t want a look at you; I assure you it will be not great challenge to get them to agree to speak to you. Perhaps you may consider not telling them how regrettably squishy they are. Some of them are rather vain, you see.”

 

“Unlike you, of course,” Varric said.

 

“It is a hardship to be so good looking and humble, but I bear it as best I can.”

 

“With looks like yours, who needs humility?” Isabela asked.

 

“Don’t encourage him.”

 

“He’s not interested in you anyways. Pointless flirting is fun, but if this keeps up, someone might get hurt.”

 

Dorian nearly jumped out of his skin at Cole’s appearance, but just managed to keep his composure.

 

“Oh, hey kid. Was wondering where you wandered off to.”

 

“There was a dwarf who missed her friend. She thought it would be funny to light someone’s hair on fire. Said they cheated the Wardens anyways.”

 

“Oh, for the love of…” Nathaniel said, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, it was a… pleasure talking with you all, but I have to go collect a lonely dwarf.”

 

The Warden Commander waved, and jogged back into town.

 

Cole tilted his head. “She didn’t actually do it.”

 

“Did you? No, wait, don’t answer that,” Varric said.

 

“And who’s this?” Isabela asked.

 

“Rivaini, Cole. Cole-”

 

“What’s a name, anyways? Varric should know it doesn’t matter. I’m an Admiral, now.” Cole tilted his head, “Hello, Admiral.”

 

“Charming.” Isabela said, cocking a brow.

 

“You get used to it. Well… more used to it,” Dorian said, thinking better of it.

 

“I’ll explain later. For now… we should probably get the meeting with Broody over with.”

 

“He’s already on my ship. Collect your things and meet me there. It’s my ship, and he’s riding for free, too, so he can’t tell me who I can’t let on my ship.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I will not travel with an altus on your ship.”

 

Dorian sighed, looking down at the sword pointing at him. He would, he supposed, have to revise his opinion of how big a sword an elf could, in fact, carry.

 

“Then you can get off my ship and pay someone else,” Isabela said.

 

“Hey, Broody! Long time no see! I see you still have that hating mages thing going for you.”

 

“Shut up, Varric.”

 

“Ah! You wound me. And here I thought we were friends.”

 

“Should I squish the glowy elf now?”

 

“No, thank you, Shale,” Dorian said. He looked up to meet Fenris’s glare. “Hopefully we can resolve this without any squishing.”

 

“No one ever lets me do enough squishing… I almost miss the Blight. There were always plenty of things to squish then.”

 

Fenris continued to glare, and glow. Dorian decided that his best tactic at this point was to remain perfectly still.

 

“Mages. Isn’t it enough that I had to stand by while Hawke let the abomination live? And now some magister is trying to lead me into a trap. But I’ll make them all see; I don’t belong to anyone.”

 

Fenris swung his sword to point at Cole in surprise.

 

“I’ve no right to be angry. After what my people have done to him, I don’t think I’d blame him if he tried to kill me. I might even deserve it.” The boy’s voice changed, higher pitched, with a different cadence. Cole tilted his head. “But you were never like that, Dorian. Why would you deserve to be killed for it?”

 

“What is that?” Fenris snarled, eyes wide. It was unclear whether it was in shock or fear.

 

Varric made to move, but Dorian was closer. The altus stepped in front of Cole protectively.

 

“He’s a confused young man that doesn’t mean any harm,” Dorian said, softly.

 

“I just want to help.”

 

“How did it know what I was thinking?” Fenris demanded. He pressed his sword closer, but Dorian refused to budge. It didn’t seem to particularly bother Fenris.

 

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Broody,” Varric said. Fenris shot him a glare. “Ok, maybe it’s what you think. Depending on what you think it is. But it isn’t blood magic. In case that’s what you thought it was.”

 

“Then it’s an abomination.”

 

“No! Well… kind of, but not the way you’re thinking.”

 

“I’m more human now. Varric made me work through my anger at the templar that killed me, and now I’m more human. But I was a spirit before; back when Rhys met me.”

 

“Cole. You’re not helping.”

 

“If a templar killed you, how are you still alive?” Fenris demanded, brow furrowing.

 

“They killed the real Cole. They beat him up, and put him in a cell. They forgot about him. I felt his hurt, and I wanted to help. But it was too late. He was already dying. So I stayed with him, so he wouldn’t be alone. And when he died, I became him.”

 

“You… what?”

 

Dorian sighed in relief as Fenris finally lowered his sword. The elf glared at him for it, but Cole’s speech seemed to have broken the tension.

 

“I became Cole, when he died. I tried helping the other mages they forgot about, but I did it all wrong. I thought I needed to kill them to help them, but I didn’t. Rhys helped me see that.”

 

“Then… what are you?”

 

“I’m Cole. And you’re Fenris. Or… Leto? You seem confused about it.”

 

“Don’t say that name!” Fenris spoke with enough force to cause everyone to tense.

 

“Red hair. Sunlight through the trees. Varania makes flowers grow,” Cole said. “You want to remember, but it hurts too much. I’m sorry. I made it worse.”

 

“It’s… just keep the mage and the abomination away from me.”

 

Fenris turned and stormed off, retreating below deck. Dorian deflated as the tension drained out of him.

 

“Charming fellow.”

 

“You should have seen him before,” Varric remarked. “He probably would have taken your head off without stopping to make threats.”

 

“I understand. Even someone that hates mages so fiercely can’t but pause at the thought of striking down such perfection.”

 

“Well, I’m certainly glad he didn’t,” Isabela agreed.

 

Varric rolled his eyes.

 

“I still say the altus should have let me squish the elf. It would have made things much simpler.”

 

“Probably. But harder to clean up the mess.”

 

“No one is getting blood on my ship but me!”

 

“Dorian, why does talking about your looks make you feel better?” Cole asked, quietly.

 

Dorian sighed. “I don’t really know, Cole. But it does, and that’s what counts.”

 

“Should I talk about your looks? Would that help?”

 

Dorian laughed. “I appreciate the offer, but no, I don’t think it would make much difference.”

 

“It made a difference when the Iron Bull talked about your looks.”

 

“That’s… different.”

 

“I’m not good enough for him. I can’t handle everyone knowing like this. Can’t he just keep his damn mouth shut? I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s alright, Cole.”

 

“But thinking of the Iron Bull hurt you. I didn’t know.”

 

“And now you do, so you’ll know to avoid it next time.”

 

“Will that make you feel better?”

 

“Probably not. But I’d rather not talk about it, at least not now. Alright?”

 

“You miss her. The Inquisitor. She always knew what to say.”

 

“Yes. She did.”

 

“I think… I think I know what she would say.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“At least it wasn’t an Orlesian.”

  
Dorian couldn't help it. He laughed. 

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, when it comes to this fic, the unexpected things are as much planned as unplanned, so consider the title a disclaimer


End file.
